


we have changed but we're still the same

by penelopeblossom



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, Halice - Freeform, Milkshakes, Rekindled Friendship, Riverparents, Unrequited Love, a dollop of angst, catching up after years of not speaking, hanelope, heart to heart, parentdale, pie porn, the unofficial sequel to boobgate, two sad adults, wilson phillips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 18:02:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16351463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penelopeblossom/pseuds/penelopeblossom
Summary: Penelope and Hal have very different ideas about the meaning of proper dessert.





	we have changed but we're still the same

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bewareoftrips](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewareoftrips/gifts).



> Written as a birthday gift to my dearest, darlingest Kim. Hope this brings you a little extra joy on your special day!

When Penelope offered to get Hal a proper dessert after seeing him sulking in the darkness with a maple snow cone in his hand, the last thing on her mind was a peach pie at Pop’s. Yet here they were, one awkward drive later, sitting on either side of a booth at the Chock’lit Shoppe with an entire pie and double chocolate malt between them. Turns out Hal can’t take a euphemism.

Penelope slinks out of her coat and discards it on the empty booth space beside her. She prays Hal will look up and let his eyes wander over see-through top but the plate in front of him has his full attention. He’s taking one bite after another, not pausing to take breaths. She hasn’t seen him go to town on a pie like this since they were in high school.

“Must’ve been a nasty fight,” she says after a while.

Hal takes a break from his chewing to give her a quizzical look.

“You always eat when you’re stressed,” she explains. “I saw you and Alice arguing at the festival.”

Hal scoffs and takes another stab at his pie, this time scooping up a piece twice the size of the previous one.

Penelope watches him closely, her gaze following his fork until it slips into his mouth and he licks it clean. A bit of filling stays behind on the corner of his lip and she resists the urge to lean over and wipe it off with the pad of her thumb.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Hal reaches for his milkshake and sips it until it’s half gone-- the thick layer of whipped cream remaining perfectly intact.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he says simply.

A knowing smile tugs at Penelope’s lips, “Please, Harold.”

Sometimes it’s hard to remember there was a time when they were close. The years have done their best to chip away at the sense of familiarity between them. But sitting here, looking into the hazel eyes he used to find so much comfort in, Hal can almost recall the girl he once considered to be his best friend.

He lets out a sigh. Come tomorrow, he would probably regret opening his mouth. But tonight...tonight he needed someone to unload onto. And, for whatever reason, Penelope had volunteered to be that someone.

“It’s Chic,” he finally admits. “He’s living in our house now.”

“Your son,” Penelope states, though she intends it as more of a question.

Hal nods, “Yeah, my son. He’s the reason...he’s why Alice disappeared for five months senior year.”

Penelope refrains from mentioning that she always assumed Alice had gotten into some legal trouble and left school to serve time. Instead, she settles on a casual “Ah”.

“Alice moved him in a couple days ago,” Hal continues before pausing to take another bite of his peach pie. God, how he wishes it was his wife’s. “He’s sleeping in Polly’s bedroom.”

Penelope raises an eyebrow, though she’s hardly surprised. Alice never was the type to look before leaping.

“And you’re not happy to have him home?”

Hal drops his fork-- the sound of silver hitting plastic clattering loudly throughout the near-empty diner.

“It’s not that I-- he’s a stranger, Penelope. A complete stranger. Living under my roof, sleeping in the bedroom next to Betty’s…”

Penelope leans closer, resting her elbows on the edge of the table.

“Do you have any idea how he came to us?”

She shakes her head.

“He was bleeding from his arm, barely able to walk straight. Turns out he’d been stabbed with a box cutter by his landlord or pimp or whatever the hell...” Hal falls back against the booth and sighs.

“You’re worried he might be dangerous.” Penelope’s voice is soft, her tone understanding. Hal looks away from the window and meets her eyes.

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” he says, grateful that his words are no longer falling on deaf ears.

Penelope reaches across the table and puts her hand over his, “I understand. I’d be worried too.”

The gesture takes Hal by surprise but he doesn’t pull away. There’s a certain comfort in Penelope’s hand resting tenderly over his. Her palm is even cold like it used to be in high school. The sensation brings back memories of exchanges similar to this one-- exchanges where he complained to her about his problems and she listened attentively without judgment. He’d forgotten how good she was at making him feel heard.

“You mentioned something about a pimp?”

Penelope’s words pull Hal from his thoughts.

“Yeah,” he nods, “Chic’s a...God, I don’t even know what it’s called, he does stuff on his webcam.”

Penelope shifts in her seat, “In exchange for money, you mean?”

“Yeah, that’s how he makes his living.”

Hal’s tone makes Penelope stiffen and an uncomfortable silence falls between them before Hal realizes what he’s said.

“I didn’t mean--”

“It’s fine,” she assures him as she pulls her hand away.

“I just don’t want that happening under my roof,” Hal clarifies. “When I asked Chic about the types of clients he had, he said there were all kinds of them-- ranging from nice to worse than the man who attacked him the night Betty brought him home. What if one of them comes looking for him? He said...he said he had scars he could show us.”

Penelope furrows her brow, “And Alice is comfortable with all of this?”

Hal raises his milkshake straw to his lips and sips until there’s nothing left but a puddle of melted whipped cream at the bottom of the glass.

“She refuses to listen to reason.”

Penelope almost responds that that sounds about right but catches herself when she remembers who she’s speaking to. Instead, her eyes dart down towards the half-eaten peach pie Hal seems to have forgotten about.

“What are you going to do?” she asks him, considering her next move.

Hal flashes her a confused look, “What do you mean?”

“Well it’s your house as much as it is Alice’s. More so, seeing as it used to belong to your parents. It seems unfair that she should be the only one making important decisions. Especially when those decisions might affect the well-being of your daughter.”

“I don’t know yet,” he replies, looking dejected. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

Penelope fiddles absentmindedly with the fork on his plate.

“All I know is he has to go. I won’t have Betty’s safety put at risk because Alice wants to fill the void that Polly left.”

“Surely she’ll come to her senses,” Penelope lies, scooping up a considerable chunk of pie and holding it up to Hal’s mouth. He opens it without hesitation and she slips the fork inside, watching contentedly as he wraps his lips around the silverware and devours the dessert.

“Sooner rather than later, I hope,” Hal returns once he’s finished chewing.

Penelope pinches another piece of pie and feeds it to him. She remembers a time when all it took to cheer Hal up was a milkshake and a drive to Sweetwater River. They were different then-- innocent and blithe and full of so much hope for the future. Now they were just lonely and looked like a materialized version of Edward Hopper’s _Nighthawks_. Something about that painting always filled Penelope with such melancholy.

“Enough about me, though,” Hal says, interrupting her musings. “What about you? How have you been?”

The question catches Penelope off guard. It’s not one she hears often. She can’t even remember the last time someone inquired about her life with genuine interest. Most of the time, such questions were merely formalities. But here Hal was, wiping the pie crumbs off his face and looking back at her with those dazzling blue eyes as he patiently awaited her answer.

She rests his fork on the edge of his plate and clears her throat, “I’ve been well.”

“That’s it?” Hal asks, cracking a smile. It’s the first one she’s gotten from him since he misinterpreted her proposition at Pickens Park. “You’ve just been well?”

Penelope lets out a laugh, “What do you want me to say? The past few weeks have been busy. I’ve been trying to get my life in order.”

“Yeah I heard you started working.”

Penelope scans Hal’s face for traces of disapproval but finds none. Instead, he almost sounds impressed.

“Well, Cheryl’s Christmas presents weren’t going to pay for themselves,” she says matter-of-factly. “And with Clifford gone, it’s my responsibility to provide for the family.”

Hal nods, “And you probably have a hospital bill to pay off. Alice mentioned Fred’s arrived the day before Christmas.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Penelope glances over at Hal’s empty milkshake and wishes she would have ordered one herself. It’s been so long since she last indulged. Since before Jason, come to think of it. She remembers being tempted to take a sip out of Polly’s strawberry milkshakes back when the girl was staying in her home and she was delivering them to her on the daily. She got close one time, but ultimately couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“I never did ask you how you were doing after the fire,” Hal says, picking up his fork again. He digs into what little is left of his peach pie and takes a bite.

 _Well we haven’t exactly spoken in twenty-four years_ , Penelope thinks to herself, wondering if that time has felt as long to him as it has to her. For her, it’s felt like an eternity.

“I’m fine,” she answers, putting the thought out of her mind. “There’s no permanent damage, just some scarring.”

“That’s great, Pen.”

Penelope’s heart skips a beat-- Hal hasn’t called her by that nickname since high school. Hearing it all these years later gives her goosebumps, which she prays he doesn’t notice.

“You know I was actually going to go up to you after the Town Hall,” he continues. “But then Betty rang the fire alarm and everyone starting panicking…”

“It’s alright, Hal, really.”

Penelope doesn’t understand why he’s acting like they didn’t have a huge falling out after high school. They went from being the best of friends to almost never speaking, all in the span of just a couple weeks. They didn’t even sign each other’s Senior yearbooks. And the years that followed weren’t so pretty, either-- least of all this past one. Hell, the last time they spoke was when he and Alice barged into her home in the middle of the night a few months ago to take their daughter back. Why did he think he owed it to her to check in all of a sudden?

“Well I’m glad you’re okay,” he says before taking his final bite of peach pie.

Penelope wishes they could stay like this, just the two of them. Hal with his pie and her with her feelings for him. She can already picture herself replaying his words at home, allowing them to keep her up past her bedtime. If it weren’t for the fact that they weren’t actually friends anymore, it would feel like old times.

Hal drops his fork and leans back against the booth, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips as he runs a hand over his stomach.

“Feel better?”

A lazy nod, “Yeah, that really hit the spot.”

“Good,” Penelope smiles.

“You were right, what I needed was a proper dessert.”

It takes every ounce of self-restraint Penelope has in her body not to laugh. Sweet as Hal was, he really could be clueless sometimes. Though perhaps it was better this way. Sitting down for a conversation-- a _real_ conversation-- had helped to bring back some of their old rapport. That was more important to Penelope than anything else.

Hal turns and signals to their server for the check.

“Thanks for keeping me company tonight, Pen,” he says as he reaches across the table to give her hand a squeeze. “I owe you.”

Penelope curses the layer of fabric between them.

“Don’t be silly. You know I’m always happy to help.”

Hal offers her an appreciative smile and a brief silence falls between them until their server comes around with the check.

Penelope studies Hal’s face as he thanks the server and hands him his card. The years really have been kind to Hal. Sitting across from her now he looks every bit as handsome as he did when they were teenagers.

“You didn’t want anything to-go, did you?”

Penelope snaps back to reality, “Oh, no. I’m good, thank you.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” she insists.

The server returns with the bill and Hal hastily signs the receipt.

“I didn’t realize how late it was,” he says tucking the customer copy in his wallet. “I ought to get home, Alice is probably waiting.”

Penelope’s stomach drops at the sound of Alice’s name.

“Of course,” she returns, feigning indifference. She reaches for her coat and slides it on, wondering if Hal even bothered to sneak a peek at her chest during any point of their conversation. “I can call for a ride, I know Thistle House is out of the way--”

“Come on,” Hal says, tilting his head. “You just spent the last hour or so listening to me ramble about my problems, the least I can do is drive you home.”

Penelope considers his words before giving a slight nod. She slides out of the booth and Hal signals for her to walk ahead of him, the heels of her boots clicking steadily against the linoleum. When they get to the door, Hal holds it open for her. It hurts to be reminded of what a gentleman he is.

The cool night air briskly greets Penelope’s face as soon as she steps outside, making her grateful for her coat. Hal walks over to the passenger door and holds it open. Damn him.

Once they’re both in the car, she lets out a breath and decides to take a chance.

“You know, if you ever need to talk...my door is always open.”

Hal meets her eyes but doesn’t immediately respond. She mentally kicks herself for being so presumptuous.

“I appreciate that,” he says finally.

Penelope’s eyes light up and Hal flashes her a smile, which she returns. He sticks his key into the ignition and the car starts up with a quiet rumble. Penelope steals another look at him while he’s turned away and feels herself melt. She just knows the image of him bathed in moonlight will keep her up when she’s lying in bed tonight, unheld and alone.

“Feel free to turn on the radio,” he tells her as he’s pulling out of the parking spot.

Good idea-- she needs a distraction. Any distraction. Reaching over and clicking on the radio, Penelope prays for something that will take her mind off of the tragedy that is her situation. Cyndi would be ideal, but any song would do really.

She doesn’t even have time to lean back in her seat and get comfortable before the words come on through the speakers.

_Open the door and come in, I'm so glad to see you my friend_

_I don't know how long it has been, having those feelings again…_

She closes her eyes and lets out an audible sigh, which the music drowns out. She’ll never be free.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is much appreciated!


End file.
